I’m warmly ensconced at an Italian restaurant in Lee’s Summit, Missouri. I came t0 town to hear Elizabeth Gilbert speak and do some focused work away from the distractions at home. But after three days of my own company, I had to get out of the hotel. It’s pouring rain, which means I am the only crazy person traipsing around. I have a borrowed umbrella in a singularly boring brown, and my Italia bag slung over my shoulder, which I bought at a market in Rome, the only place on the whole journey where I finally spoke and understood Italian. ANY Italian.
If you are like me, you are thinking Lee’s Summit is a backwater and you won’t find anything to your liking. I used to come through here on the train on the way to St Louis, pausing at a station that is, as a matter of fact, right across the street from where I now sit. In those days, I would see the Main Street with its hardware store and think …eh.
But this afternoon, in the rain, I have found a beautiful amber bracelet to celebrate the Girls In The Basement. I found it in a shop with fair trade goods run by a woman from southern California (the mosaic is in the sidewalk in front of her shop on Third Street). From a wine shop run by four women who must have been sisters with their matching platinum hair and robust figures, I purchased a local bottle of Pinot Noir (brewed right here!).
I really have not been afoot enough lately, and will have to work in some small trips somehow, despite my rather full schedule. Ambling around in the world restores and renews me as nothing else can.
Now I have had an exquisite meal of chicken canneloni. I am one of three customers at the restaurant, because it is obscenely early, and it really is pouring outside. The other two customers are a male couple with white hair, splitting a spaghetti plate. My coffee is here and I’m going to call a cab in a minute , but in the meantime, weve shared a meal. Thanks.